


How to Become Mortal

by Grayling



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Draco Malfoy, Bottom Harry Potter, Contra spem spero, Death Wish, Future events, HP next generations, Happy ending after all, Loneliness, Longing, M/M, Non omnis moriar, Potions, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Top Draco Malfoy, Top Harry Potter, Vampire Draco, eternal love, mortal Harry, too long life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-06 21:20:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15203702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grayling/pseuds/Grayling
Summary: There was no problem that Harry's body was warm while Draco's was cold. Their sex was always hot. There was no problem that Harry preferred day while Draco night. In Britain there was enough sun and shadow for both of them. There was no problem that Harry's blood flowed by itself in his veins while Draco's had to be regularly provided. Harry gave it eagerly. Yes, the only problem was that eventually Harry had to die while Draco was sentenced to live forever without a beating heart. Draco swore to Harry that he would not commit suicide or get killed but would find a way how to change the fate and die. And Draco had even all eternity to fulfil his vow and meet Harry again on the other side of life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dacro](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dacro/gifts).



> Sorry for all my mistakes. I’m not a native speaker and don’t have a beta (even don’t know how to get one :) So, please, be patient and forgiving but feel free to comment.  
> DISCLAIMER: “Harry Potter” series and its characters are the sole property J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> For more information go to the end.

When Draco was turned, he felt torned between obvious ecstasy because of a prospect of eternal life and despair because of the price he knew he would be paying for that. Family meant a lot to him. Knowing that he would outlive his parents and relatives was quite normal, but realising that he would be the last Malfoy, though immortal, wasn’t easy to accept. But vampires couldn’t procreate. It was the price. Being bisexual, he had always considered that at some point of his life he would have had an heir. And now he was infertile. And moreover, he was such a disgrace to his family! A monster, a parasite preyed on people’s blood, a creature of night, sniffing for flesh and lusting for warmth. With years passing he became more and more unhappy.

It was until Harry.

Harry gave him everything. His blood became Draco’s blood, his family became Draco’s family, his kids became Draco’s kids. Draco was accepted with not only his “blood issues”, as Lily kept joking about while replenish Harry’s delicious blood with her healer’s skills, but he was also desired despite all his sharp edges, snarky character and frequent outbursts of frustration. Draco loved and was loved. Constantly and passionately. Till the very end.

During all their common life Harry collected his memories for Draco - of great events as well as everyday routine, of their hot sex, their joy and happiness, anger and sorrow. He put each into the tiniest phials (those of sex were red of course) and then labeled and placed on the endless lines of narrow shelves around a comfortable room with a pensieve in the middle. He also added a lot of memories from his previous part of life: his miserable childhood, all Hogwarts years (together with the 7th, which Draco barely knew), their rivalry, and - only for Draco’s eyes - a very detailed one from the Battle of Hogwarts. By showing the pictures of his dead parents and beloved ones talking with him and also his own death, Harry wanted to prove to Draco that there was indeed the afterlife and he kept quoting Dumbledore, saying that “to the well organised mind, death is but the next great adventure."

 

/ _a black phial_ , 31st July, 2015/

_Malfoy is sitting at the bar when they are celebrating Harry’s thirty-fifth birthday in Hogsmeade. He looks bad, dark circles under his tired eyes. His face paler than it used to be. His tall body almost shrink, as if unhealthy. Harry is trying not to pay attention but it’s not easy. The git always, ALWAYS pulls him like the force of gravity. That's why Harry has avoided him for so many years. Even if Malfoy made his amends, apologized to everybody and kept his head down, working as a potioneer somewhere in Knockturn Alley, who’s cared? Harry’s had lots of his own problems - with challenging Auror tasks, newborn kids, merely successful marriage, sick press articles digging in his love life, crazy fans hunting him like an extinct species, constant lack of time to rest properly and then - his divorce. But yes, he did notice that at some point Malfoy just disappeared. But when? Hmmm… About two Harry decides that he’s got enough Firewhisky and thumping music and goes to the quieter, empty part of  the pub for a pint. Malfoy is still there. Sober, pale and uninterested. Bloody git! “Happy birthday, Potter,” he says coldly, raising a glass of water in a toast. “I can buy you something stronger, Malfoy, if you want to wish me properly!” Harry is pissed, as usual around Malfoy. “Oh, I do wish you all the best, Potter, even if I can’t drink anything else,” now Harry is ashamed because of his boldness and stupidity. Malfoy can see it. “No, Potter, I’m not a drinker. Calm down!” he seems to be amused. “But you look ill,” Harry starts tentatively. “You care? Wow!” Malfoy mocks. And there is this second, this impulse, in which Harry makes up his mind and changes their dynamics for good. “Yes, would you like to talk?” he asks. Malfoy hesitates. Then answers, “Are you sure?” and he smiles broadly. At first, Harry is bewildered by the beauty of that smile, until after two seconds Malfoy exserts his long fangs._

 

Harry lived long, very long, even for a wizard, even for a such heavy experienced one: by tough Auror’s life, hexes, wounds, hospital periods and constant danger resulting mental exhaustion. Draco sometimes wondered if Harry’s mother’s sacrifice had given her son all years of her assumed life and protected him also in all risky ‘adventures’. Draco hated Harry’s job and if he could, he would have probably died from anxiety when so many times Harry played with death. But Draco had to stay quiet about that, not wanting their marriage to collapse as it had been with Harry’s first one, with Ginevra. Draco had to prove he was stronger and more determined and able to accept that being Auror was just a part of being Harry. But Draco was on cloud nine when his husband was promoted and became the youngest Head Auror who fought successfully, as usual, with fossilized structures of Ministry instead of arresting criminals. Thanks Merlin, neither Jamie, nor Al wanted to tread in their father’s footsteps. Draco was so pleased when the boys chose his own dream occupations - a Quidditch player and a potioneer. And his most secret, not revealed to anyone joy was that Al, that most beautiful copy of his Harry, was not only a potions’ boy wonder (with Draco’s guidance of course), but he was a Slytherin! A true one! Draco knew that the fact had changed a lot in Hogwarts and at last had given all Snakes so long awaited justice.

 

/ _a red phial_ , 10th Oct, 2016/

_Draco’s body is chilly and this is good, because Harry feels as if he’s got fever. He’s shaking all over. Draco has to hold Harry’s hips, marking him with cuts and bruises. He’s so strong that there’s no way Harry could best him. And that makes Harry even happier. He was always scared that he can hurt his previous partners because of his physical and magical strength, but with Draco it’s impossible. Maybe it’s Harry should be scared while having sex with a vampire but he’s too horny, overwhelmed with lust. “Fuck me, Draco, please..., I’m very ready, please…” he pants heavily. Draco looks at him as if he couldn’t believe that several deep kisses and only a few minutes of fingering could be enough. But Harry needs Draco inside him, needs badly. “I want you inside me, please…, give it to me, Draco…, give me all...,” he mumbles. Then, impatiently, grabs Draco’s pale, smooth prick, it’s perfect, and tries to put it inside his hole. But Draco slightly hits Harry’s palm and takes it away. “Leave it, you’re mine, and I’m doing it!” he hisses possessively. Oh, Harry loves it, he LOVES to be owned by Draco and Draco only, to belong to the love of his life. At last Draco pushes oh so delicately, afraid to hurt Harry with his vampire strength. Unnecessarily. Harry awaits to that little hurt, he loves when the big dick is filling him totally, erasing every thought, grief or care, living only that huge bed lit by the Moon and their bodies, a milky and a tanned one - moving in excellent harmony. Harry moans, kept strongly by Draco’s long fingers. He looks up and sees the most beautiful man in the world, his silver eyes glow, long, thick, white hair shines in the moonlight, lips opened in a half-smile; so powerful and cool. Harry is closer with each of Draco’s hard thrusts. He wandlessly summons a little, sharp knife from a bedside table and without hesitation cuts his carotid artery. And while Draco falls on his chest and starts sucking passionately, Harry reaches ecstasy._

 

Wizarding society of course wanted Harry to take up a pose of the Minister of Magic. Harry refused. In fact, he wasn’t much of a ‘political animal’, Hermione was a lot better in that and after long discussions, hesitations and negotiations, she became the first woman ever in this position. So Harry was free, he resigned from leading Aurors (one of his grandsons, Remus, was doing an outstanding job as Auror) and then retired completely (weren’t 50 years of devoted service enough?). Now they had time for each other and for family and friends. They spent long hours watching Quidditch matches with Ginny (she was now a president of The Quidditch League in Britain) and Ron (he resigned from his Auror career many years earlier and started his business as an owner of a well prospering security agency). They visited each and every friend, even Luna and Roland in Greenland (she indeed discovered some unknown magical species, though Nargles were never to be found, what a shame!). They had time to celebrate with old friends from school and also some new ones (not many of new, as childhood friendships seemed to be case-hardened through all years of war and struggle). And what was the best, they had time to travel! Draco showed Harry all the most beautiful places in the world, both muggle and magical, ancient temples of witchcraft and reserves of unicorns or dragons, as well as hectic muggle cities of New York, Hongkong or Moscow. Harry was fascinated, enchanted and overwhelmed and of course he wanted to make love in all those places!

 

But when his kids were very old themselves, Harry’s time was about to run out. And THAT Draco couldn’t accept, even when Harry stopped using glamour and showed his wrinkled face and stooped posture. Harry hoped that this way always young and beautiful Draco would eventually give up and let him go. Wishful thinking! Because Draco saw Harry in his true self: with his jade eyes fulfilled with never dying magic which shone, the strongest and most awesome! And Draco just knew that if Harry wanted, he could have live longer! And longer! And NEVER leave Draco alone!

 

/ _A gold phial_ ; 19th June, 2020/

_Harry has butterflies in his stomach. Once again he opens a little golden box and glances at the ring. For him, it is beautiful, but what will Draco say? Harry knows that Draco deserves everything best in this world, so he himself chose the most clear, big - but still elegant, not pompous - diamond of emerald cut, that seemed more masculine to him, and two less emeralds of colour matching his eyes (Diaco has a kink about Harry’s eyes, not that Harry minds it, Harry smirks). Then he made a project of a simple and chic platinum ring with the diamond in the centre and emeralds on both it sides. When the ring was ready and a silversmith put also all protection charms on it, Harry spent long hours trying spells to immerse the ring in his magic as it could absorb it. He wanted the ring to be not only a precious thing but something more. Knowing how much Draco adores his magic, its warm, vibrating strength, he desperately wants to give Draco some sort of his constant presence, which will last, even when their doom finally separates them. With the sound of Draco’s steps, Harry wakes up from his brooding and quickly puts the box into his inner pocket. They are going to eat a delicious dinner in a fancy restaurant and then… They’re talking and laughing but Harry can hardly eat anything (Draco is only sniffing, as always, but it satisfies his vampire senses). “Harry, are you ok?” Nothing can be hidden from Draco. “Yes, I’d like to take you somewhere,” Harry tries to speak with light voice but can’t hide the tension. He aparates them straight into a hot summer night with clear sky and billions of stars above their heads. They are standing on a high mountain peak, surrounded by silence of the night and only delicate wind can reach them. “Harry, where are we, what is that?” Draco is surprised but smiling. “It’s Ben Nevis Dragons’ Sanctuary,” Harry manages to gasp out and then stops, too embarrassed because he can’t remember a word from his so well prepared speech on how much Draco means to him and why it is a great idea to share their lives. So instead, he just kneels and takes out his box. “D-D-Draco, will you m-m-marry me?” Draco’s eyes are shining brighter than all Milky Way above their heads. “Oh, Harry–,” he can’t finish the sentence, and also kneels and they are crying and hugging and kissing. “I will, baby, I will!” Draco whispers at last. And when Harry slides the ring onto Draco’s finger, time stops. Draco closes his eyes and Harry feels the magic of the ring mingling with Draco’s. They become one._

 

“Let me go, Draco, please, do agree! I’m so tired, so tired,” Harry begged, leaning on Draco and stroking his pale, teary cheeks with his old, trembling fingers. They were crying a lot. And Draco was cradling Harry’s weak body and whispering, “Harry, love, I can’t live without you. I don’t want! Let me die with you! Please…” But Harry couldn’t say yes. That was the biggest problem from the very beginning. Harry never accepted any form of suicide. He, being a force of nature, could agreed only to natural end of life. But in Draco’s case it was inner contradiction. Vampires were creatures who challenged nature and went beyond its limitations. The nature’s vengeance was that they were condemned to eternal loneliness and despair when all the mortals they loved passed away. That’s how the blessing of immortality turned into the worst curse ever!

Harry had this knowledge even before Draco did and in the morning of their first night together when them having sex changed into making love and they understood that they were meant for each other (what Draco had been afraid of since he was eleven!) Harry told Draco that he would never be a vampire. Never ever. It was Harry’s one and only condition of their relationship. And Draco agreed. His Slytherin’s mind hoped to find satisfying solution, a loophole, an exception. But he didn’t. He failed.

So yes, Harry was ready. Wasn’t he The Master of Death after all? Like in that story from Harry’s favourite book of tales, which he liked to read for his grandchildren, he was ready to take off his Cloak of Invisibility and welcome Death as friend. So he kept begging and nagging and convincing and calming. Draco suspected that Harry’s objections against Draco’s idea of ending his own life forcefully were caused by Harry’s more or less eligible intuition that in such a case they might not meet on the other side of life. Harry - subconsciously or not - kept in the back of his head the idea of hell and heavens and Draco had an inkling that Harry was scared of Draco ending up as a lost soul whom a winged angel wouldn’t allow to enter the land of afterlife happiness.

 

When the time came and Harry Potter was dying, the wizarding world held its breath. It was the end of the gold age, time of the greatest wizards with their falls and glory. But for Draco it hardly mattered. HIS Harry was dying! Draco’s life was about to end for the second time. Harry was lying in their bed, his best friends (unfortunately, except Ron and Hermione who died a few years earlier) and closest family around. Weakened and fading, he still tried to comfort his husband. “Draco,” he whispered, “don’t despair!” He was breathing shallowly. “You will find a way! I’m absolutely sure! You are the most stubborn, most talented potioneer I’ve ever known!” Draco couldn’t stop a little smirk with a thought that even in his last hour Harry still remembered about compliments. “But I’m begging you. Don’t kill yourself, this way or another, ok? And don’t expose yourself to unnecessary danger. I don’t want you to die violently. My greatest dream is that now, when you know how to live, that you should find a way to become a human again and live your life to its natural end.” He stopped exhausted. Draco kept stroking Harry’s cooling hand and scooted even closer to him. After a while Harry continued. “Please, love, promise me, promise me that you do your best and more,” he started to cough badly. “Harry, baby, calm down. I promise you, I do. I’ll find a way. We’ll meet again. I promise.” For the first time in his life Draco even didn’t try to hide his tears from others. He cried openly.

The very last words of Harry Potter were, “Bye Draco, see you on the other side. And don’t worry, after all, we both have all eternity. I’ll be waiting for you.”


	2. Chapter 2

After ten years of mourning and different phases of depression, with a huge dose of the family support and antidepressant potions brewed for him by Lily’s multi-talented daughter, Draco  started to get better. He decided that instead of longing for Harry, he would do his best to meet him again. And because he was a potioneer, he boldly decided that he would invent a potion which turned a vampire into a human.

But it wasn’t so simple. Of course, there were distractions. Harry was such an authority that all evil forces were forced to keep their heads low and only sometimes creep out from their filthy holes. But with the death of the Golden Trio things changed. No, there wasn’t a new Voldemort (Draco was proud that after barely a hundred years of training he was able to say this name without his voice trembling). However, great successes of muggle civilisation, among them colonies on Moon and missions to Mars, and – in contrast to it – multiple wars and devastation of environment, resulted in great anti-muggle movement, numerous and full of violence. It was completely opposite to all Harry’s believes. Draco felt devastated! Had been all Harry’s struggle and suffering for nothing?

Fortunately, the third and fourth generation of Harry’s and Weasleys’ and other War Heroes’ descendents were no less brave than the Golden Trio. And Draco, with a great surprise, found also himself much more braver than during his youth (though it should have been conversely, youngsters were supposed to be reckless). He became not only an active member of Light forces (funny as he couldn’t act during days) but also one of their leader, full of first-hand knowledge and experience and also excellent advice due to his cold blood (well, literally) so necessary in actions. He remembered very well that he had promised Harry not to put himself in unnecessary danger. But deep in his motionless heart he knew that Harry would have done the same! That risk was worth to be taken.

During all those years of war he was forced to move between different groups of Light forces. He started to wear thick black leather robes, long gloves, hats with broad brims and sexy dark glasses. When the weather was good and it rained heavily, he was even able to go outside during a day. But Draco knew that killing “soldiers” would not bring desired solution and peace. Politicians were needed! Granger’s genes were needed! Not to mention about his own! So then he became a politician. It was soooo boring! But again, when you have eternity ahead, you can be patient. And with that (and your Slytherin best qualities like cunning, scheming, calculating and manipulating) you can achieve the most difficult goals.

So, at last his world was in peace and, to his own surprise, he found himself standing at the Ministry’s Atrium with the Order of Merlin First Class hanging on his chest. Lucius would have been in heaven, though Draco supposed his father had ended rather in hell. Well, it had been bitterly sweet when Lucius, old and seriously ill, had written to Draco asking for the bite. Funny, yeah? All those years Draco had suffered from his father’s contempt and hatred; he was sure it had shortened his mother’s life. And then, Lucius, petrified and unable to face all humans fate, had been begging Draco to bite him, change him into a creature he’d despised so much that he hadn’t hesitated to renounce his only son ! And it had been Pyrrhic victory when Draco had refused. So Lucius had died and all Malfoys vaults and Manor were inherited by distant relatives whom Draco even didn’t know and didn’t care. After all, he had the family of his choice.

The war was long, cruel and exhausting, it lasted the whole generation’s time, and left the wizarding world weakened and impoverished. OK, The Light won at last but the cost was enormous. Draco found himself among a few experienced adults and a bunch of just kids who even didn’t have proper teachers because DADA, Charms, Potions and Transfiguration, well, almost all professors had been killed during the numerous battles. Unfortunately, his extended family was also heavily experienced. Bloody Gryffindors, as they mainly had been, of course couldn’t have been forced to stay away. Draco felt that bitter taste in his mouth while thinking that he couldn’t have saved them all. Now, he understood Harry’s grief better. And moreover, Hogwarts (rebuilt beautifully during Harry’s times) once again was partly destroyed.

So, Draco did what should have been done. First, he had participated in rebuilding the castle (his private vaults couldn’t have been used better) and then became a professor of Potions and DADA (Harry would laugh from his heavens or where, the hell, he was). And _this_ was even more exhausting than any war! Not because of the kids themselves! Draco had so much fun watching students who stood dead scared while his tall, pale figure was strutting through corridors wrapped in darkness (he invented some useful spells preventing him from sunshine). Wasn’t he a legend? He just hated the paperwork! But well, it turned out he was an excellent professor, even if unpleasant and snarky (Snape would have been be so pleased!), and during long years of teaching, his students results in NEWTs were more than satisfying.

 

/a red phial, 21st Apr, 2026/

_They are lying in 69, on their sides, sucking off one another. They both enjoy that position very much, love caressing each other muscled, long thighs and firm, round buttocks. The most obscene, plopping, gurgling and gagging sounds fill the room. Draco’s long fingers are reaching deep into Harry’s arse, mouth devouring his fat cock. Harry is stroking and squeezing Drac’s balls, licking the long, cold prick like the tastiest vanilla ice cream. No hurry, slowly they are driving each other to the edge. Harry always loses, coming as first, Draco swallows his come eagerly, the only thing his stomach not only tolerates but craves for. Harry stops petting Draco, his body shivers in series of convulsions. Draco smiles cockily, nothing satisfies him more than watching Harry almost faint from bliss. It turns him on so much that when Harry comes back from his kick and starts sucking Draco again, it takes only a few minutes before Draco screams loudly, every nerve in his gorgeous body stretched tight and burning, and he zones out._

 

When Draco had brought up his successors in Hogwarts, he finally had time for finding a path to mortality. At first, Draco supposed that the potion would be a variation of the Regeneration Potion (used in Dark Lord’s case). For dozens of years he kept trying, changing, experimenting. Some of the effects were so dangerous (poisonous fumes, explosions) that Draco almost died for the second time (but he promised, he _promised_ : nothing but natural, human death). Fortunately, his experiments with the potion resulted in one of his greatest achievements - a cure for lycanthropy.

For 20 years he had been working with Harry’s great-great-great-grandson on the issue of one of Luna’s little descendants. The kid was attacked by a werewolf (packs of them still lived in the Forbidden Forest after the third war) while travelling with his parents through the Forest, seaking for non-existent species (apparently a pinch of strangeness was still present in Luna’s descendants), and he happen to be allergic to Wolfsbane that resulted with nodules and sores difficult to heal. The kid suffered and even such a git as Draco was couldn’t stand that. He had that genial idea to try and change Regeneration Potion the way it could work for werewolves (Wolfsbane was a base of the new potion). Draco didn’t like to recall the necessity of exhuming some of deceased werewolves – in the case the needed part of the body was “an enemy’s bid” as well as “a parent’s bid” (the “offspring” of the bloody Greyback was quite numerous, but surely each victim had to get their own “father”).

It took a while to work it out, then to find the remains and transmute them or even the ashes into bones and blood. Meanwhile, the boy became a man, his body with scars and blisters due to his allergy, but the light in his eyes when a new potion worked and ended the damn circle of transitions, rewarded Draco more than his next Order of Merlin First Class, together with a title of the First Healer of Britain (with a huge salary and a nice office in St. Mungo’s, not to mention). Al would have been so proud of him! Draco went to the Potters’ marble repository (Harry in his will forbade building a monument, so the tomb was the only one, visited by crowds of worshippers that unnerved Draco extremely), passed through wards and hang the Order on Al’s urn.

Draco was laughing loudly when he got a very sophisticated parchment of gold letters, folded in finest leather stating that Dracula Bloodship Convention had voted for him to be the chairman. Him? It appeared that he somehow became one of the leaders of vampires in Europe. Never before he’d considered such a possibility. He had been too busy. But now he found out that there were a lot of vampires tired of life, tired of constant bloodthirst. Standards changed. Hunting humans was forbidden, well officially, though in Romania, Albania and deserted parts of Russia there were still “wild” packs of bloodsuckers and old vampires (those really old, like 500+) had no more entertainment. Poor things! But some of them had also no courage or desire to die. And they came to the idea that Draco could perhaps sort this problem.

Draco wasn’t against it at all. He hoped that “by the way” the would find some clues for his “immortality potion” (as he stupidly named the damn thing). He had full access to old (i.e. dark) books of prominent vampires, as well as to huge amount of galleons for his research and the best qualified staff. The first breakthrough was a potion which fully surpassed hunting need and almost fully the bloodthirst (it must have been given only once a year). It was a great relief for many vampires, giving them a lot of freedom and improving an image of a insatiable beast.

Clearly, serendipity was Draco’s second (or rather third) name. Somehow along the way his crew invented the ointment that allowed vampires to stay in half-sun: early mornings and evenings and wonderfully gloomy English autumns, not Florida of course. It worked for only a few hours, but surprisingly, the most thank you letters came after they started to sell the salve in apothecaries as “Tanning Lotion” (ad dept. was very creative). Apparently, a lot of vamps hungered the daylight more than blood!

Meanwhile, muggles, with the little help of wizards in disguise, came to sanity, at last in most places on earth. Their technology almost equaled magic. Long ago Draco stopped investigating and assimilate the newest knowledge, ideas or  devices. But he made sure that Muggle Studies stopped to be a funny subject in Hogwarts, now it was on the obligatory curriculum. He was also proud seeing some new muggle “thing” adapted by young generation of his family.

The next Draco’s milestone was so called ‘Ageing Potion’. Thanks to it, vampires bodies withered, as if getting old, and at last brain disintegrated, the process lasted about 20 years so there was plenty of time to say goodbye. It was some sort of solution and many vampires were interested as it gave an ersatz of human-like life and death. But none of Draco’s achievements satisfied him fully. He had promised Harry that he would become a human, a _bloody human_! None of his great accomplishments got his closer to the beating heart and running blood. And time was passing.

Sometimes, when the tension was getting unbearable Draco went to find quick blow jobs at the backrooms of gay clubs or brothels with whores. But he never penetrated or got penetration, he also never bit anybody, drank only bottled, chilled blood and only from different members of the family. He never took his Thirst-Relief Potion, because no matter how distant descendant donated his blood, Harry’s delicate scent was always, _always_ present in it. And that was all that mattered! His life shrank, revolved mainly around his job and family events. Draco didn’t need anything more, didn’t seek for someone new. He was only Harry’s and Harry was his, they belonged to each other forever and the intensity of their relationship was impossible to repeat.

 

/a blue phial, Christmas 2031/

 _Harry is standing in front of a mountain of presents that almost blocks out a view of a huge, shining Christmas tree. He’s smiling like a dumbass. His kink is so weird that his shopping frenzy starts on the Boxing Day (for the next year of course) with carefully planning and choosing gifts for all his wonderful family. He knows of course what triggered it all those years ago, when he for the first time just showered his family with Christmas presents. He knows perfectly well how it is to be abandoned and lonely for Christmas and once promised himself that at least his beloved ones would never suffer from such feelings. Draco enters the room, with a mischievous smile. “Merlin, you did restrain, didn’t you?” he asks maliciously. Harry laughs shamelessly, as nothing can shade his joy. “Stop needling me or you won’t get anything!” he teases. Draco rolls his eyes, “Oh, every night I can fly to the sparkling stars and get_ off _my greatest gift ever!” They are standing so close that Harry can see Christmas lights enlightening these silver eyes. “Only my stars are green, funny, isn’t it?” Draco winces, knowing that he exposed himself. Harry kisses him light-heartedly, “Such a soppy declaration, Draco? Shame on you!” They go back to merry kisses, isn’t it Christmas anyway?_

 

In each generation of the family there were Aurors, quidditch players (preferably seekers), potioneers, healers or curse breakers, even dragon keepers (Weasleys’ genes, in those cases Draco wasn’t pleased that much) and also lawyers and politicians but only when Harry’s gens were mixed with Granger-Weasley’s offsprings’. What was funny, none of them ever became a journalist. Harry’s hatress for the press affected his descendants interests (or rather lack of them). Some were also scientists, exploring new charms or seeking for new ways how to invisibly but strongly influence muggle society and prevent humankind from self-extinction.

Also in each generation, no matter how thin Harry’s blood remained in his descendents’ veins, there were men or women with gorgeous emerald eyes and wild black hair. It was like Harry’s gift for Draco. He loved them more than others (although his devotion to this huge family was legendary) but never had a relationship with any of them. He knew Harry wouldn’t have been against it, always wanting all the best for Draco, but Draco just didn’t want to. He had his task to fulfil as well as all these memory phials which were never boring and he could wank over the memories of the hottest sex scenes ever.

 

/a red phial 10th Oct, 2043/

 _Draco’s wrists are chained to the metal bars of their bedhead. It has to be like this as Draco is too strong for anything else. He is calm and relaxed. Harry kneels naked in front of him wondering how amazing it is that after many years of their relationship, Draco at last has reached the point where he can be submissive, despite all his possessiveness towards Harry; has allowed himself to such a dangerous thing as to take up his arse, to lower his guard, to surrender. It is almost morning. They were fucking all night, changing positions, they were fingering and rimming, and kissing – it was never boring. But THAT is something new. Draco isn’t cold and collected anymore. He is in chaos of desire, lust and need so deep that his eyes are black and his impeccable hair unkempt. “Harry, please…, take me, please, I want–” he isn’t able to finish. “What do you want, Draco, tell me!” Harry commans. “I… I want to dissolve in you, to be a part of you forever, to be owned… Harry, please, fuck me hard, you know how much I can take, I can take_ everything _!” Draco lets go, totally free in expressing his feelings, Only  two of them in the whole universe._

 _So Harry pushes into in one long smooth thrust, until he hears his balls slamming on Draco’s arse. Draco cries out loudly and jerks his chains. “Yeah, like that, give me all, baby!” Harry knows that with the sun rising his lover will be again ice-cold, haughty bastard, controlling his life in tiny details. But at the moment Harry can see Draco’s true self. Fucking him good and hard, he is watching these ablaze eyes, burning Harry’s body and soul like the sun itself. “Draco… yes, like this?, look at me…, oh...,” Harry is breathing heavily, his magic whirling around them like Fiendfyre, not hurting,_ not hurting _Draco, only giving him life. And Draco is making the most beautiful sounds Harry loves. So he gasps with each strong push, “You–are–the–one–the–one–and–only–my–only–love!” Heavy chains are suddenly broken and Draco is all over Harry, their bodies on fire of their shared orgasm._


	3. Chapter 3

Draco had a dream. A very simple and clear one, like a delicate breeze. In the dream, Harry came to his lab holding a little plant, a whole one, together with roots. He told Draco to put it in the potion brewing by Draco. And then smiled and added, “Hurry up, Draco, I’m perfectly ok here but I’m missing you.” He woke up with tears and feeling that velvety warmth associated only with Harry. 

Draco recognized the plant immediately (wasn’t he the best anyway?) although he had never seen it with his own eyes. No wonder! That mediocre looking plant was the rarest on earth and the deadliest one, growing only in one place, high in the impenetrable Peruvian mountains and very few natives knew its habitat. It was called just “Instant Death”. So poisonous that getting closer than a few feet always caused immediate demise of the intruder and while the plant’s was blossoming – the distance should have been even a dozen feet. It was sort of Avada Kedavra locked in a plant. 

So, he had to find it. It was an enterprise itself! No native wanted to cooperate. They were dead scared seeing a vampire. Their old, natural magic almost destroyed him. Well, at first, he had to show he was harmless, then, learn their language. All the time, be nice and helpful, and friendly, so they could slowly trust him (the “nice” part was the most difficult). After a few years of non stop service (teaching and curing), they decided that his love story was touching enough and since being a vampire wasn’t so desirable in the eyes of that wise tribe, they resolved to help him with his immortal problems and showed him a place where “everything dies”. 

The next task was how to get the evil plant with roots and everything (but not devastate the rest of the place; he supposed that he would need more than one plant to fulfil his goal) and how to transport it to his lab not killing everybody around. 

Yes, sometimes during his perils Draco was thinking that being a cold vampire was in fact a good factor in his task. Never in his mortal life had he reached such a level of patience! Well, at last until another couple of years passed (who bothered counting them?). He had the damn plan! And he managed to operate without killing even a fly if one dared to get into his antiseptic lab. Of course, to achieve it, he had to invent more spells, more strong barriers and wards than healers had done in St. Mungo’s during previous several centuries (sure, they were thankful for that). 

But when he started the proper brewing work, nothing was successful. He went back to the Regeneration Potion as a base, then several healing potions, then to others, even dark ones, but nothing worked. All for vain! Draco was despaired again. His vampire friends willingly tested Draco’s inventions, especially the oldests guys who were tired and wanted to die, but they ranks shrunk with time passing. Moreover, some of them died in a violent way – burnt or exploded, or screaming in pain – and that left Draco in an agony of remorse. He failed again.

 

/a blue phial, 1st Feb, 2049/

_ Draco is dancing in a club. Harry is trying to dance too but he is too occupied with watching the tall, glowing silhouette. This morning Harry drank his anti-ageing potion made by his husband; Draco forced that promise on Harry to stay alive as long as possible. But Harry shakes his head thinking about that. Oldness is  _ inside  _ him. But not tonight, not while Draco is dancing. Because no matter, how grey his own hair are becoming, how many wrinkles make his face look older and older, Harry watches his husband young and beautiful as always, and it consoles him.  _

_ Draco  _ is dancing _ , his eyes half closed, his cat-like sway so soft and sexy, so natural, liquid silver. Harry is watching and gets to the point when something ignites inside him. Then, with each movement of Draco’s body, Harry’s immortal fire is getting stronger and stronger. This is his love burning, all his soul burning, and from it his whole body catches fire. And Draco is feeling it. He opens his eyes and is looking at Harry. And coming closer and closer. With each Draco’s step Harry feels younger, fitter, more beautiful. More loved. Draco seeks Harry’s heat, he embraces him, crushes him in his strong grip. Harry is the only one who can warm up Draco’s cold body, yes, he can do it with only a kiss, a touch, a smile. He can share his life with Draco, literally. They are dancing together, holding each other intensely, with lips pressing and tongues licking, with hands shamelessly petting their bodies, reaching under their clothes, searching for fire, for love, for life. They are dancing, drunken with themselves. _

 

Rose was a child whose blood was a fine mixture of many of Harry’s descendants. She had more of Harry Potter’s genes then one could suppose after almost 300 years that had passed. Draco knew about it just smelling her. He watched her grow, that work of art, both outside and inside. Beauty of the body, mind and heart. She was brilliant, brave and cunning, loyal and calculating, extremely intelligent and good-hearted, bold and sensitive – a true child of all Hogwarts Houses. Because surely, Hogwarts still existed even if Draco had stopped teaching so many years before! He was told that the Sorting Hat (how stinky and dirty the thing must have been, yuk!) didn’t know where to put Rose. The girl spent long fifteen minutes sitting on a chair and apparently having a good time. Then the headmaster himself decided that she would spend equal amount of time in each House. That was the first case like that ever!

Draco supported her potions interests but like always – kept distance. Rose graduated with so many O’s in NEWTs that could compete only with her detention scores. Then she decided to take a gap year and spent it travelling around the world and visiting all Harry’s descendants to be found. 

And then, the very next day after the twentieth anniversary of Draco’s dream about Harry and the damn plant, she came to Draco’s lab – her thick black hair in a ponytail, long and somehow rebellious, with untamed strands escaping from a strong band – and said, “I was dreaming of Harry. He told me to come to you and give a hand with that potion which will make you a human again. I am going to help you and we’ll brew that bloody Heartbeat Potion”. She was talking with confidence only youngsters could feel and her jade eyes shone like Harry’s and Harry’s only. 

 

/a red phial, 5th June, 2055/

_ They are lying naked in their garden. Draco is drinking Harry’s blood from a deep knife cut in the femoral artery. “What is a stupid birthday party for when you are a dead man anyway, Harry, huh?” he asks angrily between one gulp and another. Harry only laughs, while booze and blood deficit make him a bit dizzy. “Gosh, you taste even better with all this Firewhisky in your blood!” Draco licks his lips. “You know it affects me! I’m getting impatient and feel like going hard on you. Yeah, I’m going to be a  _ bad  _ vampire, and I’m going to eat you out, devour your body,” he licks the wound, smearing some blood on Harry’s thigh, then waves his hand closing the gash. ‘What would you say if I eat you alive, baby?” he smiles beastly with Harry’s blood on his mouth and his fangs out. There is no fear in Harry’s eyes. He smiles back. “Yeah, you brute? So, better hurry up, it’s a dawn soon.”  _

_ In a blink of an eye a lot of things are happening. Harry’s on his four and Draco is everywhere. He is scratching Harry’s back so deeply that Harry cries out, a wave of arousal hits him violently. Then Draco grabs Harry’s hips, squeezes his arse cheeks oh so strongly, Harry arches his neck backwards feeling his hair on his back and shouts, “Do it!” In a second Draco’s tongue rims him mercilessly, around and deep, soft and hard, driving him crazy. Yes, Draco really devours him, his body is collapsing, he forgets everything, his age, his worries, his own name. There is only one word in him, repeated like a mantra, “Draco, Draco, Draco!” Time stops. _ __  
_ Harry doesn't know if it is a vampire thing or just Draco's, and he doesn't care. He only knows that every single cell of his body orgasms. And that is too much for a human being, too much. He screams. Everything changes into dazzling whiteness. _ __  
_ He is coming back feeling his body squeezed in apparition. They are in the bathroom. "You passed out" Draco is amused. "I had to finish myself! You owe me!" Harry smiles shyly, "Sorry, sometimes it's too intense".  _ __  
_ Draco heals Harry's scratches and bruises and gives him blood replenish potion. Draco always remembers about these little things, showing almost involuntarily how much he cares. Then they shower. _ _  
_ _ “Why were you so angry, Draco?” Harry asks while washing Draco’s hair. “Hmmm, you know why,” Draco loves this massage. “Tell me, please,” Harry never lets go. Hot water weakens Draco’s strong will. He sighs. “You know I’m scared,” he whispers. “I can’t stand this thought that one day my birthday will be without y–,” He chokes, swallows, shrinks, closes his eyes tightly. Harry hesitates, thinks, weighs his words, he cups Draco’s face. “Do you know that ancient quotation,  _ Non omnis moriar _? It is true, Draco, I’ll live not only in your memories and my grandchildren’s blood. I will  _ live _ , live truly, fully, I promise!I was there, saw them, my parents, Sirius, Dumbledore. Please, do believe me, it’s not over! Not the end. We’ll meet again!” He hugs sobbing Draco. “I know you’ll mourn me, but it’ll pass,  _ it will __ , only don’t let grief consume you, don’t lose yourself in desolation.”

_ Harry is kissing Draco’s tears more salty than water falling from the shower; hugging him, stroking his body, calming him, giving him his strength.  _

 

It was the fifth year of their work together. Draco had a feeling that something important was missing. And it wasn’t the fact that he liked Rose much more than he should have. No, no! He was a professionalist and never allowed himself to erase a line and did anything stupid like fall in love with a woman younger 300 years or something! He remained collected and distant! Even if – with his amazing vampire senses – he knew how fast her heart started to beat when he entered the lab or that her body sweated lightly when he came too close. And it wasn’t fear, oh, no, Rose trusted him absolutely, it was arousal. But he never crossed the damn line!

So, something was wrong with the potion. Two of his vampire volunteers already died of an exploding heart that beat too fast and strong, tearing their chests apart. Then desperate Draco put his dream of the plant in the pensieve. He noticed that Harry had kept only one plant, whole, with roots and a single, grey flower. And he’d said, “Take it and throw it into your cauldron”. A sudden thought struck Draco. Maybe the dream should have been understood verbatim...

“Your cauldron” – Draco had plenty of them. But only one was really  _ his  _ cauldron, connected with Harry. The big cauldron of solid gold which he got from Harry at their first Christmas together. So precious! Draco didn’t use it after Harry’s dead, too scared to destroy it accidentally. 

“Throw it”, just throw. Not crush, not slice, not mash. Nothing but throw! The whole plant with roots and a one single flower. But what else? Draco found his notes he was taking every day during his long career as a potioneer. He found the date of the dream and checked what potion had beenin his cauldron that day. It appeared he had been brewing two. The first one, in Harry’s cauldron, had been The Heart-Revival Potion (for a muggle husband of Hermione’s descendant; after a massive heart attack he’d preferred to trust rather in Draco’s skills than muggle surgeries). Draco read in his notes that he had decided to prepare a large amount of that expensive and difficult to brew potion and send the surplus to St. Mungo’s, for the poorest patients. And the second had been… Felix Felicis (he remembered himself laughing at that strange commission of a Head Auror, who apparently would have rather provided those kind of supplies for his Aurors than trained them properly; well, people were getting lazy during such a long period of peace). 

So what should have to be done? Draco decided that Harry had waited for the specific moment when Draco would have had those two potions and then had come to him in the dream. And the words about “your cauldron” meant that all process of brewing should have been done there. It was like a revelation! And also so scary. Was that so simple? “Should I just prepare both potions, then pour Felix Felicis into my golden cauldron with The Heart-Revival and then throw there the whole Instant Death?”, suddenly Draco reached the point of no return. 

He decided that he himself would be the next volunteer. When he told about it the hell exploded. He fought against the whole family and Rose for long weeks. At last they had to surrender. Draco knew that he had to bottle the potion carefully and then drink it quickly before he would even smell the Instant Death. He supposed that the plant would sort of “kill” him again while The Heart-Revival together with Felix Felicis would bring him back to real life. But it was only an assumption. One sip was all he could probably drink before his “death” so the phial should have been the least of all, nothing should have left, otherwise it could kill him again when he “resurrected”.

So, that was the time. He stood in a lab, separated by a thick glass wall from Rose and others, with the small phial in his palm (the rest was carefully deposited). She looked pale but her gorgeous Harry’s eyes shone with hope which he didn’t deserve. Other members of the family weren’t so strong. He saw their tears. He knew they loved him. After all those years it still surprised him. He wasn’t alone, forgotten and abandoned. He felt blessed, fulfilled. And calm. He knew that even if the experiment wouldn’t work properly, he eventually would meet Harry – no gods or spirits, or odds would separate them! And his mind was really “well organised”, hadn’t he proved it during hundreds of years? Hadn’t he done anything good in this world, redeemed his sins of youth? Draco sighed. The only thing he regretted was leaving Rose alone, it was like a sting in his mute heart. Anyway, it hurt.

He opened his mouth, took the phial’s neck tightly with his lips and nonverbally said an opening spell, then drank the liquid as quickly as only a vampire could. 

Darkness around him. Nothingness. And then, suddenly, for a blink of an eye, Harry’s smiling face. Happiness. And full light.

Then he heard strong, fast beats. Something was ramming. He felt fast, strong pulsation in the whole body. His heart was thumping in his chest! His blood rushed in his veins! He felt it! He was alive! Human again! The next thing was Rose kissing him fiercely and passionately, her face wet from tears of joy. 

 

Epilogue

Rose was wise, she didn’t expect to replace Harry in Draco’s newly beating heart. She only wanted Draco to let her love him. But Draco did care about her. She was unique and her friendship was an exceptional privilege. She was also beautiful while his body was alive and physically only 30 years old. He couldn’t stay distant anymore. Maybe it was time to have his own family and children? Maybe his parents would have been proud of him at last? So he proposed, giving Rose a beautiful ring with a priceless heart-shaped ruby symbolising his beating heart, he was accepted and after a year they got married. Rose looked like a million galleons during the wedding ceremony and reception. They danced, ate and drink, laughed and had sex. With time, sex became love. It was different love, not so intense, consuming and desperate love between two people who both had experienced death and that’s way had valued each moment of life; but more human-like, so to say, still deep and devoted. Rose was happy, he felt it every day. And then their children were born and Draco experienced a totally new dimension of happiness. He had his heir! Harry Draco Malfoy, didn’t the name sound wonderfully? The boy was his greatest pride! And after several years, his twin princesses appeared! Brilliant and energetic: Narcissa and Lily! And then in the end, the amazing copy of himself, with big grey eyes, a pointy chin and light blond hair, tall and clever: Scorpius. The house was full of their laugh and pranks. And with that Draco seemed absolutely sure: it was good to be a human!

*

After a life so long that he saw his great-grandson (James Albus Malfoy; Draco bequeathed him his pensieve room with memory phials, together with red ones; let them see that heroes and legends had dicks, too), Draco at last felt tired and missed his Harry so much that he wasn’t able to wait longer. He was a legend, achieved more than had ever expected, had his own family, fame and fortune. 

Draco died on Rose’s hands, surrounded by his family, regretting NOTHING. During his last moments he was smiling and looking as if he saw something or somebody invisible for others. His last words were, “Bye, Rose, I’ll be waiting for you! See you everybody on the other side.” 

/Fin/

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I humbly dedicate my far from perfect work to those who despair. Never give up! I do believe you’ll find your peace and consolation! Please, listen to this hope-giving song of Pentatonix; so beautifully delivered by SecondSoundLyrics:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xlppyBJhLnc
> 
> The topic of immortals’ loneliness bothers me since J.R.R. Tolkien, and that means since long ago. So, when I finished writing this piece of shit, I decided to look for similar works that explore the theme: mortal Harry who eventually dies/immortal vampire Draco who lives and despairs. I found one beautiful work (with a tattoo as a bonus), good like old wine: “Our Tree” by Dacro (https://archiveofourown.org/works/539949).


End file.
